


Don't Turn Back

by crimsondemons



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, F/M, Nazis, idk yet, just trying some new stuff, so let's see where this is going, with actually some story not just sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsondemons/pseuds/crimsondemons
Summary: What if John Smith hadn't killed himself? What if somehow he managed to escape to an alternate universe?
Relationships: Helen Smith/John Smith, Juliana Crain/John Smith
Kudos: 29





	Don't Turn Back

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well. I was kinda disappointed that High Castle had John Smith kill himself. So I opted for a different fate.
> 
> It's the first time that I don't just write some one-shot fuck story, so yeah, idk whether this is gonna be any good. Rated E 'cause obviously I wanna write some smut at some point.

_»Yes, there are two paths you can go by. But in the long run there's still time to change the road you're on.«_ \- Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven

"Here you are," his breath was raspy. His whole body was aching from the train accident, he could feel his blood pulsing through the cuts and wounds. He sighed, his eyes wandering over the untouched nature. Juliana was standing behind him, still aiming the rifle at him. In his left hand he held the armband with the swastika.  
"We have seen things, you and me," he slightly turned his head around, glimpsing at Juliana Crain before gazing at nature again.  
"Other worlds, other lives. We .. we have that in common," John Smith exhaled deeply, "it's unbearable - being able to look through that door and glimpse at all the people you could've been. And out of all of them his is the one you became."

He sat up straight, closing his eyes. In his left hand still the Nazi armband, in his right his handgun. Inside him he felt a pain that he had never felt before. His own words echoing in his mind: "A man is only ever as strong as the people around him. The community he serves and the family he is sworn to protect. Whatever strength he has, he draws from them. And for them, he must be prepared to give up everything. His life, his blood, or else everything he has done has been for nothing. He is nothing."  
Now? Now he had lost everything. Thomas was gone in this world, Helen was gone, his daughters one was lost to the regime, the other one probably was only a few steps away from joining the resistance. He had gotten too deep into everything. He couldn't stop anymore, he couldn't turn around. Even though he wasn't wearing the armband anymore, he wouldn't be able to escape this regime. He had gone too far and lost everything. In this world there was nothing to live for anymore. A stinging pain was spreading through his chest, almost suffocating him, he closed his eyes, when he heard Juliana Crain loading her gun, the click of the trigger. He was sure that he could feel the bullet ripping through his shoulder, but there was another feeling. It felt like he was getting caught up in the maelstrom of something he couldn't put his finger on. Clutching the gun in his hand he slowly opened his eyes.

Juliana sighed, she had been planning the assassination of John Smith for a very long time. But she had never imagined it to be like that. To see him this broken and desolated. Some part deep inside of her even felt sorry for him. Because right now there was only John Smith - the father who had lost his son and wife, whose one daughter had become an absolute Nazi and whose other daughter was likely to join the Resistance. In this moment and even though he was wearing his uniform there was no sign left of the Reichsführer. Right in front of her there was a broken man, sitting on a cliff.She felt sorry for his losses. "But this won't change anything," she thought to herself, loading the rifle and aiming at the man in front of her. He sat up straight and she decided to at least grant him this dignity. Juliana's eyes wandered over his black uniform, to his left hand in which he was holding the swastika armband, his right one in which he was clutching his pistol. There was no sign at all that he would turn around, trying to use it on her.  
Juliana took a deep breath in, adjusting the rifle, her finger on the trigger. Just when she pulled it, there was a whooshing sound, accompanied by blinding white light. Only a splatter of blood was left. John Smith was gone.

"God dammit!" she cursed, knowing exactly what just had happened. He had traveled. She was turning to go, when she noticed his armband that was lying next to the splatter of his blood. She walked up to the edge of the cliff, bowing don and picking it up. The fabric was still warm and she could faintly smell Smith's musky aftershave. She sighed, turning around to head back to the portal where the others would be waiting.  
Along the way there was a strange thought creeping into her head - perhaps they were even now. As Smith had tried to kill her, before the first time she traveled, so she had just tried to kill him right before he escaped into another reality.

Smith grunted when he ungently dropped onto the ground. He felt sick. Taking a look around he recognised the alternate version of his house. The American flag was blowing in the wind, a blue sky above. His left shoulder hurt like hell, apparently Juliana Crain had managed to shoot him just before he somehow had ended up here. Slowly he got up, brushing off the dirt of his uniform with his left hand, in his right still holding the gun.  
"Dad? What the hell?!" Thomas voice made him whirl around. His son had jumped off his bicycle, letting it drop onto the lawn in front of the house, slowly walking up to John.  
"Tho- ... Thomas?" Smith could feel his eyes water with tears, he dropped his gun, wrapping his arms around his son. Well, this alternate version of his son. He pulled him close.  
"Dad!" Thomas voice sounded confused, to say the least. His son put his hands on John's chest, gently pushing him away. John hissed - Thomas had managed to just hit the bullet wound."What's with the unifor-" Thomas faltered, when his eyes got caught on the Iron Cross that John was still wearing around his neck and looking down on his hands against his father's chest he stammered: "Dad - what the hell is going on? Why are you .. oh god! Have you been shot?!"  
John took a deep breath. In this world everything was still alright. Thomas was alive. As was Helen. He wasn't caught up in the Nazi system here anymore. Everything was still alright. Another deep breath, trying to calm his voice before he spoke: "Let's go inside, I'll .. I'll have to get out of these clothes."  
Thomas nodded slowly, his eyes still on the uniform John wore. The walked up to the house, Thomas opening the door for his father. It was only then that John noticed the American uniform that his son was wearing. A raspy chuckle escaped his mouth. Apparently Thomas was stepping into his footsteps after all. He felt a sting inside his stomach, the thought of losing his son in this world was still there. "You lost everything in your own world. If so, it can only become better here," was the bitter thought that crossed his mind.  
"Give me a moment, will you?" he looked at Thomas who only nodded before John walked into his and Helen's bedroom. He opened the wardrobe and took out some clothes that looked normal enough. Then he slowly walked into the bathroom.  
He opened the belt of his uniform, letting it drop to the floor. Slowly he unbuttoned the jacket. He carefully put it onto a coat hanger he'd brought from the wardrobe. Seeing the bullet hole in the black fabric made something inside him hurt. It wasn't like he had loved the system the uniform stood for, but he had believed in it. He had to believe in it, he recalled. The last time he had been here - here in this alternate world - had shown him that there would've been a different path. All of his efforts to outrank the other Nazis in order to protect his family had gone ultimately wrong. He didn't have a family anymore. Not in his own old life at least. He let out a deep sigh, before he began to unbutton his shirt. His blood had built a crimson stain on the white cotton and he was sure that Helen would be mad at him. The thought of her let a smile crawl onto his lips. He put the shirt aside. He pulled off his boots, opened his belt and stepped out of the uniform trousers which he put on the coat hanger as well. He would keep the uniform, but he would bury it in the depths of his closet, he decided. Then Smith stepped up to the mirror, examining the bullet wound on his shoulder. It had stopped bleeding by now, but it hurt like hell. He bit down on his handkerchief which he had rolled up, when he stepped under the hot water of the shower. The water sent a stinging pain from the wound through all of his body.  
Stepping out of the shower he put the handkerchief aside, panting to breath away the pain. John knew that he would have to visit a doctor to get the would examined. But for now all he could do was to sterilize it with some of the high-proof alcohol from the medicine cabinet. For doing so he again bit down on the handkerchief, muffling his groaning when the alcohol sent a burning sensation through his body that dwarfed the pain the water had inflicted. He put some bandages on the wounds, combed his hair and put on the clothes of the dead alternate John Smith. Then he grabbed his uniform, heading for his closet to hide it there.

When he returned to the living room Thomas handed him a glass of whisky without saying a word.  
"Thanks, son," John downed the liquor and sat down on the sofa. Thomas gave him a strange look and sat down on the arm chair opposite of him.  
"Dad, what is going on?" he sounded estranged, "by now I know a bullet wound when I see one and what you wore .. that .." Thomas gulped and his eyes met John's: "Dad, that was a Nazi uniform. And judging by the pins and medals ... a damn high ranking one."  
John sighed. What was he supposed to say? Was there even anything he could say to explain what was gong on? He couldn't bear the thought to tell his son, who was enrolled in the US Army now to tell him that he - this version of his father - was the reason his real father had died. That he was the highest ranking Nazi of North America. That he had just ordered for all the jews, negroes und other non-aryan people in his North America to be deported to concentration camps.He gulped.  
"I .. I cannot explain this to you, Thomas," he looked up and met his son's eyes. Thomas begin to say something but John raised his hand, stopping his son.  
"Thomas, I cannot explain any of this to you. But I can promise you one thing: I am here now. And I will stay here. With you and mom. And if joining the army made you happy, then I want you to go on. But I want you to know one thing: I will always be proud of you. No matter what you're doing." he smiled weakly.  
"Th- .. thank you, dad," Thomas' eyes had grown wide during the last sentence.  
"But, dad ... this uniform .."  
"Thomas, stop it. I won't talk about it," John's voice was stern now.  
"Dad, you ... you always told me about Danny and you fighting those Nazi bastards. Please just explain to me why you would wear auch an abomination? And who shot you?" his son's voice was trembling. John sighed, lifting his hands to his forehead and massaging it. There was no possible way of explanation. None that would make sense to his son in this universe."Just, let it go, okay? You have to trust me here. I just cannot tell you. Also I need you to promise me that you will not tell mom about that, alright? I ... I might be able to explain it to you when the time comes," he sighed and looked at Thomas. His son nodded slowly.  
"I do trust you, dad," Thomas nodded, "and I will promise not to tell mom - or anyone - about this. But .. let's at least go and visit Dr. Adler, you will need someone to tend to your shoulder."  
"Dr. Adler? .. ah, yes, sure," John nodded slowly and got up.

"Ah, you know some hunting accident," John joked , before hissing when Dr. Adler finished stitching him up.  
"Yeah, well I hope next time you'll shoot the prey, not yourself, Smith," Adler laughed and gave him a pat on the back, "you're as good as new, pal! Take it easy the next days, alright?"  
"Thanks a lot, Doctor," John gave the other man a weak smile and shook his hand.


End file.
